


Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out

by bunnymarket



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Dom Spencer Reid, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Hard Kinks, Older Man/Younger Woman, Smut, Will Update As I Continue, brat tamer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:09:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnymarket/pseuds/bunnymarket
Summary: “sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwelland how I ruined everything by saying it out loud.Especially that, but I should have known.”When I first set my eyes on Spencer Reid, the last thing I expected was for my life to be inexplicably and undeniably ruined. But if I could go back and do it again, I wouldn’t change a single thing.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character, Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 23
Kudos: 96





	1. Using You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re the only one, who’s making me come to my sinful senses. I’ll never love anyone the same. I’ll never be ashamed of using you for pleasure.

I was never really good at handling rejection. Most people aren’t, I suppose, but they had the luxury of pretending it didn’t bother them. 

They had the luxury of pretending like they hadn’t gotten blackout drunk the night before and messaged the rejector a total of 16 times. And it was especially pathetic considering that I knew Spencer was at work. He had told me as much when I had messaged him sober. 

So I didn’t have that luxury. Because I was nursing a hangover, pitifully wearing Spencer’s cardigan like some heartbroken schoolgirl, reading the message he had sent minutes before as if something would change if I willed it hard enough. 

**Spencer:** _Can we talk?_

If you know anything about relationships, sexual or romantic, you know what those three little words mean. They mean it was a mistake. They mean “this can’t happen again”. 

But I needed it to happen again. 

It had been two weeks since Spencer had so gracefully fingered me under a table at my local coffee shop and I hadn’t stopped thinking about it once. I had tried everything. I couldn’t get myself off, toys or not. I had gone out twice with the hopes of bringing someone home to do it for me. 

It didn’t work. None of the drunk college boys were Spencer. It didn’t matter if he never touched me again, I knew that Spencer would give me the best orgasm of my life if I let him. And I was so willing. I just had to convince him to give it one last try. 

**(Y/N):** _sure. here’s my address :)_

Perhaps if I played it clueless he would pity me and make me cum before letting me down easy. It was a long shot, but I was willing to do anything to have his hands on me again. 

Despite that, I didn’t rush to greet him when I heard him knock on my door. I was flooded with memories of my ex telling me I was too ‘needy’ to love, and suddenly felt as if you could smell it on my breath. I wanted to seem cool, nonchalant even. Maybe he wouldn’t even bring up my crudely worded and misspelled messages. 

“Dr. Reid! Come in,” I greeted him, far too loudly, but my roommate was out and I felt the need to compensate for the empty space. And maybe I was just rushed with the realization that he was going to actually be in my apartment. 

He stepped in, brushing his wavy locks behind his ear with the hand not in his pocket, and gave me a tight smile. 

Based on his attire, dress pants, a dress shirt under a purple sweater vest, and a polka-dotted tie, I figured he would be whisked away to work any second. But it was Saturday, so maybe he just always dressed like that. How should I know? 

“Spencer is still fine. Is, uh, is that my cardigan?” His smile suddenly seemed much more real, his eyes lighting up as he tore them away from my thighs to look at me again. 

Maybe I wouldn’t have to pretend to be clueless. I had completely forgotten that I was wearing, except for my underwear, nothing but his stupid maroon cardigan that somehow still smelled like him. He didn’t seem weirded out, though. If anything, he seemed to really enjoy the view. 

I decided to take my chances with the latter. 

“Would you like it if it was?” I asked, managing the coyest smile I could given the circumstances. 

He stepped forward, his hand reaching out momentarily, before his mind seemed to catch up with his body. His hand went back into his pocket and he cleared his throat, his hair bouncing as he shook his head. 

“We can’t—we shouldn’t—I, uh, listen…that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I shouldn’t have done that to you. A–At the coffee shop? It shouldn’t have happened.” I knew it was coming, but it still hurt. How could it not? 

I wasn’t going to give up that easily, though. 

“So you didn’t enjoy it?” I asked, jutting my bottom lip out in what I hoped to be a convincing pout. Deciding to be even more bold, I took a step closer to him, looking into his eyes with as much innocence as I could muster. 

His face was suddenly littered with specks of dark pink, spreading across his nose like a blooming flower. He shook his head again. 

“That’s–that’s not what I meant at all! Of course I enjoyed it. But you’re so young, (Y/N), and I shouldn’t have made you do that. It makes an awkward imbalance of power, forcing you into an uncomfortable position. And that’s not fair. And I’m far too old for you. And—,” he stopped abruptly, surprised by my finger pressing against his lips. 

“First of all, you didn’t make me do anything. I’m an adult. I can drink, I can vote. I can do both at once, if I want to! And, Spencer, this may come as a surprise,” I cut myself off with a scoff, thinking back to the texts I had sent the night before, “but, I liked what we did. I would love to finish it, actually.” 

He didn’t respond, his eyebrows furrowing as he seemed to genuinely consider my proposition. In my mind, I was crossing my fingers, wishing he would take me up on the offer. 

After some minutes that passed in agony, he finally came to a decision. 

“Fine,” I clapped, delighted, “but—but! We need to discuss it first. Lay out some ground rules. Decide what we want from each other,” he finished softly, taking my hands in his much bigger ones. I failed to notice when they were groping me, but his hands were warm, ghosts of calluses on his otherwise soft palms. 

I knew my roommate would be out with her boyfriend all day, so I led him to the couch for us to speak. About what, precisely, besides the act of sex, I wasn’t sure. Which was seemingly fine, because he started off the conversation. 

“What we did before—the way I talked to you, we don’t have to do that.” 

“Oh, no, no, that’s fine! I…I liked it more than I expected. I didn’t expect you to like that stuff,” I confessed, hoping my flushed cheeks weren’t too obvious. God, just thinking about it made me sweat. 

He chuckled. “Most people wouldn’t. Did you know 47% of Americans prefer to be dominant sexually, with 50% of those being men? It’s not uncommon, really. Americans are 13% more likely to be dominant with each other than in most other cultures, possibly due to our demanding nature or generally selfish attitudes. We believe we deserve the things we want.” 

I nodded, taking in every bit of information like rainwater in a drought. Embarrassingly, it was a bit of a turn on that he knew so much information about, well, everything. 

“You’re dominant, then, I presume?” He nodded. “Okay. Besides talking dirty, and…touching people in public, what do you, um, what do you enjoy?” I was much too nervous to be discussing sex with someone who had already had his fingers inside me. 

There it was again, that smile that said he knew something I didn’t. It was disgustingly sexy. 

“I’d like to show you, rather than tell you, if that’s okay. But tell me now if there’s anything you know you won’t enjoy, or don’t want to try. And we can come up with a safe word, in case I try something you don’t like, or you just want to stop.” 

The things he was discussing made me giddy with both excitement and nervousness. Excitement, that he was speaking as if we were going to be trying multiple things. Over some period of time. Nervousness, because despite me not being a virgin, I wasn’t the most experienced. 

I would be fine with him teaching me as long as he was. He could be my professor for as much time as he wanted. 

I racked my brain, trying to think of his request. I had done some research in the past, and mostly everything seemed interesting. Daunting, but interesting. There were only a few things I knew I would never want, not even from Spencer Reid. 

“Um, don’t touch my feet, please. I don’t want to touch yours either.”

He cut me off. 

“You know, one study found that almost half of the people participating had a foot fetish. It’s the most common fetish despite being so openly taunted. Not that I have one, though. Sorry, continue.” 

I wanted to continue, but I was faced with a disturbing realization. This man talking about the statistics of feet fetishes shouldn’t be so cute. It shouldn't be attractive at all! I could not get so attached to a man who clearly was in this for sex. 

Which was fine, by the way, because that’s the only thing I wanted either. I was very good at keeping physical and romantic intimacy separated. And that’s not sarcasm in the slightest bit. 

“I don’t have one either. Far from it,” I settled on finally, hoping he wouldn’t notice how I suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“And, uh…no excrements. Like, you know, piss. Shit. None of that stuff. Gross. That’s all I know I wouldn’t enjoy.” 

“And a safeword?” He prompted immediately, not wasting anytime. His hand had found its way to my knee, resting there gently. 

“How about… TARDIS,” I offered with a shy grin on my face, thinking back to his title that seemed to make him so tense falling from my lips. 

This smile made me swoon, and maybe there were butterflies, if anyone really wanted to know. Okay, yeah, there were hundreds of butterflies. They were suffocating me. 

His smile was crooked, one eye crinkling slightly more than the other, his teeth barely showing. His eyes seemed brighter, his face younger. He looked… beautiful. I hated it. 

“TARDIS?” He repeated, his voice soft and airy. 

“Well, yeah. Aren’t safe words supposed to be words that you don’t normally use? When would you say TARDIS during sex?” 

“So no Doctor Who roleplaying, then?” 

I decided to be even bolder, possibly spurred on by his hand slowly progressing its way up my thigh. 

“I can still call you Doctor if that’s what gets you off, Dr. Reid. It’s not a problem for me.” I smiled, batting my eyelashes at him once more. 

He squeezed my thigh with the same intensity he had used in the coffee shop, causing a small noise to leave my throat. Which didn’t go unnoticed by him, of course. 

He leaned down closer to me, our foreheads nearly touching, and pushed the cardigan up with his roaming hand. 

“Are you teasing me?” He whispered, his voice harsher than it had been moments before. 

I wiggled under his intense stare, causing me to move further away from him on the couch. He didn’t miss a beat, using his other hand to grab the back of my head and push it forward, closer than before. 

With the same hand, he yanked on a section of my hair, eliciting a whimper from me. “You need to learn some manners. You don’t behave, you have the mouth of a sailor, and now you’re teasing me? I can teach you to act the right way.” 

I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the heat pooling in my stomach. 

“So you’d rather me call you Professor, then?” 

He moved his hand to grab my cheeks, holding them so roughly that my lips were forced into an open pucker. I stared at him with wide eyes, unblinking. 

“I’d rather you not speak at all. Is that clear?” 

“Y—,” his grip tightened, causing me to stop talking immediately. Instead, I nodded silently. 

He ran his thumb over my lower lip softly, looking at me with such tender eyes I’d never believe the words leaving his mouth if I weren’t hearing them myself. He cocked his head to the side before loosening his grip, experimentally pushing his thumb in my mouth. 

“You’re such a fast learner,” he cooed, one hand slipping further up his cardigan as the other slid deeper into my mouth. “Suck.” That was an order, I knew instinctively. 

So I did, puckering my lips and sucking his thumb softly. He watched me eagerly, his eyes hooded and his pupils the size of dinner plates, while his other hand continued its search for glory. 

Before I knew it, his knuckles were brushing against my panties. I stopped sucking, letting out a quiet gasp, and a small smile spread across his lips. 

He brushed his knuckles across the same spot, harder this time, and I sighed around his thumb. His tongue flicked out, wetting his bottom lip, and I was unable to tear my eyes away. I wanted to kiss him so bad. 

I couldn’t help myself. I really couldn’t. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He pulled away from me suddenly all at once, shaking his head softly. For a moment, I was terrified I had done something wrong. Then he started unbuckling his belt. 

“You just can’t shut up, can you? Can’t follow directions either. Will I have to force the obedience into you, hmm?” 

When his belt was in his hand, he folded it up, then looked at me with a shit-eating grin. “Open wide, lovely. I’m getting sick of hearing your voice.” 

I couldn’t help but think there was something wrong with me. As he shoved the belt into my mouth, I felt the heat spread even further, beginning to feel a stickiness pooling into my underwear. And these were a good pair, too! 

But hearing him call me such a sweet name while saying such harsh words…it was all encompassing. I was transported to another life where I would surely die if I was not being held by Spencer Reid. 

He brushed a strand of hair out of my face, eyes raking over my flushed cheeks and open mouth, already straining against the material of his belt. Despite the situation, he had true adoration in his eyes. 

With nimble fingers, he began unbuttoning his cardigan, separating it to find my bare chest, heaving from excitement. 

Spencer ran a finger between my breasts, barely touching the skin. Goosebumps erupted in his wake, causing me to shiver. 

“Is this what you were expecting when you woke up this morning? You’re doing all the hard work for me, doll. Are you such a desperate whore that you wouldn’t be able to wait for me to get your clothes off myself?” 

Even if I could have answered, he didn’t give me the time. 

“Come here,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for me to hear. With firm hands, he pulled me up against him so I was straddling his lap. 

In my new position, I could easily feel his bulge pressing against my clothed core. I was filled with an urge to rock against it, get some sort of friction besides the aching teasing Spencer was giving me. 

I’d never met a man so patient or dedicated to foreplay. Any other man, and he would’ve come and been asleep already. Not that I was truly complaining, though. I could come from his words alone. 

I decided to test my limits, rocking lightly against his bulge, but he was quicker than me. He let out a breathy moan, his hands gripping my hips so hard I was sure they would be bruised. The thought made me smile inwardly. 

“Did I say you could move?” 

I shook my head. 

“You’re such a brat,” he spat out like the words were venom, before bucking his hips against me, using his grip to keep me in place. 

I moaned against the belt, feeling drool run down my chin but feeling too blissed out to care, and tried to get as close to him as possible. 

My hands found his shoulders, grabbing them with as much force as I could muster, and my head fell into the crook of his neck. 

With my new position, my hair had fallen over my shoulder, giving him easy access to the sensitive skin of my neck and collarbones. He didn’t waste any time using that to his advantage. 

He leaned forward, biting the skin on my neck before kissing it softly. I was whimpering into the belt, an absolute mess. 

He switched between loving kisses and harsh sucking, occasionally blowing cool breath on the bruises he was certainly creating. I could practically feel the smile on his lips against my skin. 

He was everywhere, all at once. All encompassing, as I said. I couldn’t take it. 

I tried begging, but it was a fruitless effort with his belt shoved between my teeth. All that came out was a string of incomprehensible moans and whines. 

For the first time, he seemed to take pity on me. He reached up, taking the belt out of my mouth and swiping the spit from my bottom lip with his thumb. His loose curls had fallen in his face once again, partially obscuring his eyes from my sight. But his flushed cheeks and parted lips were all I needed to see. 

“Something you want to say, lovely?” His voice was so smooth, so sweet, I wanted him to swallow me whole and spit me out and do it twice over. I wanted him to destroy me, and I knew he would. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

“I’ve barely gotten started,” he replied, but I didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched against my skin. 

I tried to jut against his lap once more, but he held me firmly in place. I whined. 

“I need you to fuck me, please. I need you inside me,” I begged, holding onto his shoulders as if he’d disappear if I let go. 

That seemed to do the trick. “When you speak to me, when you expect things from me, you address me as Doctor or sir. Is that clear? Now try again.” 

He didn’t have to tell me twice. 

“I need you inside me, sir. So badly. Please, please, fuck me.” 

“Are you on birth control?” 

I never thought before I spoke. 

“Why? Do you wanna fill me up, Doctor?” 

He had thrown me back against the couch before I could blink, hovering over me with a dangerous look in his eyes. 

His arms were on either side of my head, forcing me to look directly at him. Not that I was complaining in the slightest bit. 

“When’s the last time you were tested?” 

“It’s been months, but I haven’t slept with anyone since then,” I admitted sheepishly, hoping that it wouldn’t turn him off. Some part of me, for some reason, trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t sleep with me without knowing I’d be safe, so I didn’t return the question. Still, he answered. 

“I’m clean. Are you sure you want this?” The harsh demands were gone, only concern in his eyes as he questioned me. My heart swelled, and I cursed at my stupid sensitivity. 

“More than anything,” I answered honestly. 

That was all he needed to hear, wasting no time in undoing his pants and sliding them down. Instinctively, I reached forward to palm him through his boxers, but he grabbed my wrist before I could. 

“Be good for me, please, lovely,” he mumbled, bringing my hand up to go around the back his neck before leaning down and pressing chaste kisses against my sternum. 

I wanted to cherish every moment, I really did. But every kiss was so agonizingly slow, his fingers running through my hair so gently, and I just needed him to fuck me. 

“Please fuck me, Doctor, I need it so bad.” I didn’t care how pathetic I sounded; it was the truth. 

He looked up at me through his eyelashes, pressing another swift kiss right below my belly button before sitting back on his heels. 

With a smooth motion his boxers were pulled down, and I hardly even had time to look before he was shoving himself inside me. 

I hissed, not given nearly enough time to adjust to being around him before he slowly started moving. Tears were prickling the corners of my eyes, my hands finding his forearms and digging my nails in deeply. 

He paused, only for a moment, before he jerked his hips forward and started fucking me at a rough pace. 

“Is this what you wanted, whore? God, you’re so tight, so wet, all for me. You want me to fuck you? I’ll give you what you want, baby, don’t worry.” 

I bit my bottom lip to suppress the throaty moans leaving my mouth as his hips snapped against mine. He didn’t seem to appreciate that, though, using one hand to grab my cheeks again. 

He leaned down, his hair tickling my neck as he whispered in my ear. “I want to hear you, lovely. Don’t hold back or I won’t let up.” 

I shivered at his words, letting out a particularly loud moan as his free hand pinched my hardened nipple. 

He didn’t let up regardless, his pace rough and unforgiving as I came undone under him. 

Even if it hadn’t been ages since the last time I had sex, I knew no one else would be making me feel the same way. I wasn’t going to last long, no matter how much I wanted the moment to last. 

He seemed to notice it as well, his movements becoming harsher as I whined incoherently with every thrust. I felt pathetic, and I loved it. 

“I would’ve told you to be quick, but it seems like you’re doing all the work for me. Come on, lovely. I know you’re close.” 

His hand dropped down, his thumb rubbing quick circles on my clit, and it was over. 

I opened my mouth to moan, to yell out his name, to beg him to keep going, but he took the noise away by wrapping my lips in a heated kiss. 

Before I had the time to process what was happening, I was kissing back. His tongue was in my mouth, and I felt his thrusts getting quicker and sloppier. He didn’t come up for air as he released inside of me. 

The beating of my chest wasn’t from my comedown. 

God, what was I getting myself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know the actual explicit scenes were quick, but there will be more in the future. I want to focus on how the reader feels about the situation and I think Spencer would want to establish boundaries and some other things before going all in, you know? I am pumping out chapters quickly as of now but I’ll have a regular update schedule soon. Please leave feedback!


	2. It’s Only Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to feel your love physically. I want to sleep with you, but only in the literal sense.

The brain was always a fascinating subject for me. How could it not be? It was, after all, the main frame for human existence. Every functionality, every flaw, could almost always be traced back to the brain. 

However, it wasn’t necessarily the brain that had piqued my interest, but the mind. The distinction, of course, being in the fine print that very few would care to read. The mind—the way we, as human beings, think. The way we feel. The way we behave. They all had explanations, all had a reason. Everything could be packaged neatly in a box and tied with a bow, sent for delivery with no issues. You didn’t guess, you knew. 

I had to be able to rationalize all my thoughts, all my actions. And if I studied the human mind, I could do just that.

My obsession with overanalyzing my every move was the exact thing that made me so passionate about psychology. Not that it was my passion, necessarily, but it was something I cared deeply about. 

So there was the thought. And here was the action: I was attending a lecture about victimology with a guest speaker from the BAU. Daunting, in itself, to even be in the same room as someone with such high achievements. Daring, to let my thoughts wander past the idea of victimology and into more animalistic grounds. 

I wasn’t always this aware of myself, despite my attempts to keep up with and chart every breath I took, I tended to jump on impulse without even realizing. But being in front of this man, clearly so intelligent, so talented, made me feel like I had something to prove. I needed his approval. 

So I waited. I ignored my impulses, I hung onto his every syllable, and I waited. 

When the lecture was finally over, I took my time. I checked my phone, I retied my laces, I dropped my bag. I was prolonging my time as much as possible, until it was only me and him. 

He wouldn’t be surprised, of course. He was a profiler, for Christ’s sake, and I wasn’t exactly the most discreet. But that didn’t matter to me. All that mattered was somehow earning his praise. Whatever it took. 

“Uh, hi, Dr. Reid?” I hadn’t meant for it to be a question, nor had I meant to squeak it out like a mouse in a trap, but I did both. He looked up from his stack of papers with interest, one eyebrow raised. 

“Sorry to bother you. I’m (Y/N). I was watching your lecture. You really know your stuff,” I spat out lamely, gripping my messenger bag tighter with every word. I was already making a fool of myself. 

He chuckled. “I do “know my stuff.” It’s my job to know it, so it would be rather damaging for everyone on my team if I didn’t.” 

From the tone of his voice, it was hard to tell whether or not he was joking, or if he was simply stating a fact. I braved on regardless. 

“Good point. I was, um, wondering actually, if I could buy you a cup of coffee?” He titled his head to the side, a smile pulling at his lips as he eyed me. “Not like that! Shit, sorry, I don’t mean—like, not that you’re, like, unappealing at all. You’re quite handsome—fuck, sorry! Unprofessional.” 

I paused for breath, feeling the heat on my neck and cheeks like flames were licking my body. His smile had only grown while I was talking, although he was fidgeting with his hands in front of his stomach quite clearly. 

“I’m really struggling in my Theories of Personality course right now. You’re so intelligent, and you actually have experience. I thought talking to you could help me.” It wasn’t a total lie, of course. He was intelligent, and talking to him would help me, but as more of an ego boost than a grade marker. 

He rubbed the pads of his fingers across his knuckles repeatedly, but straightened his shoulders as if to appear more confident. Not that he needed the confidence, by the way, considering he was basically a foot taller than me. I had no idea why he felt the need to size me up. 

“Oh, right, yeah. That…that makes sense…” he trailed off, wiping his palms on his thighs as if that wasn’t just as obvious of a nervous tic. 

“You’re a Psychology major, then?” He questioned, seemingly in an attempt to regain control of the conversation. 

“Psychology and Theatre, minor in Linguistics,” I confirmed, beaming proudly as I listed off my studies, even bouncing on my heels as his eyes widened the slightest bit. 

“How old are you?” Was, for some odd reason, his next question. 

“Old enough to be in college. It’s really rude to ask a woman her age, you know,” I teased, scrunching up my nose in distaste. 

“I was in college when I was 14. There’s not an age requirement, as far as I’m aware. In fact, many people enter college early, between the ages of 16 and 17,” he retorted, clearly not accepting my evasive answer. 

I rolled my eyes, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear before I answered. “21, since it concerns you. If you’re looking for something stronger than coffee, I can legally escort you.” 

There was silence for a minute. I watched the way he squinted his eyes, his thumb brushing against his bottom lip softly. As much as I wanted to wonder what he was thinking so hard about, I was too busy wondering how soft his lips were. 

No! Stupid hormones, stupid body. Think rationally and stop being a horndog! I scolded myself, physically shaking the thought out of my head. 

Finally, after a few more minutes, he was focused on me once more. 

“Coffee. To talk about psychology,” he asserted, looking me in the eyes for a confirmation. 

“Coffee. Psychology. Professionalism,” I ensured, giving him my brightest smile, and maybe I batted my eyelashes the tiniest bit, if anyone really wanted to know. He was a man after all, and I had promised professionalism with the coffee, not beforehand. 

Besides, it’s not like anything would happen. Even if I had wanted those ever-moving hands on me the moment he entered the room, he was clearly much older than me. And he was a professional, a federal agent. I would fantasize about his lips and his hands while he drank scalding hot, black coffee, and he would treat me like a teenage girl he was forced to babysit. And then he would go to his fancy, federal agent house and fuck his fancy, federal agent lover. 

And as we exited the lecture hall together, my textbook tucked under his arm, I told myself that was fine by me. 

The weather, however, was arguably not fine at all. You’d think after three years in the area, I would have prepared for the harsh winds and cold temperatures, but I never learned. The wind was whipping my hair around my face, and I was wearing a yellow sundress that stopped above my knees, spaghetti straps and all. I was basically a snowman in the making. 

And of course, we had decided to walk to the coffee shop. It was so close, after all. Why waste the gas, right? God, I was so stupid. 

Dr. Reid seemed to notice my dilemma, my hands gripping my upper arms so tight I thought I would bruise, because he put a hand on my shoulder. 

“Would you like my cardigan?” He asked, his voice so soft you could almost miss it if you weren’t listening hard enough. But I was. And he had leaned so close to me, his breath fanning against my ear as he spoke. 

I tried not to be affected. 

“That’s not very professional, Doctor,” I teased, hoping my lightheartedness would ease the tension I was feeling in my abdomen. 

He tensed for a moment, his grip on my shoulder tightening the slightest bit, before he cleared his throat and continued. “Spencer is fine. It’s not kind to let you freeze to death. You know, women are typically much colder than men despite their core body temperatures being higher on average. That makes people think you should be warmer, but it’s actually the opposite. Because you’re used to the heat, cold temperatures affect you more than they do me. Not to mention—sorry, I’m rambling.” 

God, of course he was cute and smart and kind! And his stupid tangents were so cute, the way his face lit up when he spoke about statistics. Did he even realize what he was doing? What’s next, he loves kids and is ready for a lifelong commitment? 

I took my bottom lip between my teeth, chewing on it as I debated my choices. It wasn’t that big of a deal, really, except everything was a big deal with me. It always had been. 

“Don’t apologize for being passionate. But you can’t freeze either, Doc—Spencer,” I finally said, settling on an escape route to provide for him. 

But of course, he was already shrugging off the stupid maroon cardigan and handing it to me with that stupid half smile on his face. 

“I’m wearing long sleeves. You’re wearing… basically nothing.” Maybe it was the wind, but I swore his voice had dropped an octave on those last words. 

I lamented in my anger the rest of the walk to the coffee shop; not over his kindness, but over the fact that his stupid cardigan smelled like stupid vanilla and cinnamon and fucking swallowed me whole with it’s stupid too long sleeves and the stupid fact that it came basically lower than my dress. The whole thing was stupid. I never wanted to take the cardigan off as long as I walked the earth. 

Spencer didn’t take his coffee black, much to my surprise. He took it with much more sugar and creamer than I thought humanly possible, the liquid being a pale tan at that point. He had even nodded approvingly at my chocolate caramel latte with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzled on top. Who would’ve thought? 

He seated the two of us in a booth in the very back, opting for some reason to sit beside me instead of across. I voiced my confusion the second time around. 

“I’d be an awful profiler, you know,” I joked as he set the textbook out in front of the two of us. 

“Why’s that?” 

“I pegged you as a black coffee kind of guy. And a personal space kind of guy,” I mumbled, trying not to notice the way his knee brushed against mine as he shifted his body to look at me. 

He laughed. With me, or at me, I couldn’t tell. But I didn’t rather care, either, so long as I was seeing that smile of his light up his features, memorizing the way he tucked his hair back behind his ears. 

With one hand flipping through the pages of my textbook, the other was slung precariously over the back of the booth. The smell of vanilla was even stronger than on his cardigan. 

After finally finding the section he was looking for, he scanned it quickly (too quickly to actually be reading, I thought) before actually looking at me. 

“Profiling isn’t an exact science. There isn’t much about me you would know to tell how I took my coffee. The personal space thing—you’re not wrong. But it’s easier to read when one of us isn’t looking at the pages upside down, right?” 

He asked the question as if he was speaking to an incompetent child. In his eyes, maybe, I was. But his tone had surprised me so much that I hardly had time to stop my answer. 

“Right, sir,” I drawled, looking up at him through my eyelashes as I moved just the slightest bit, pressing our legs together. I didn’t know what was coming over me.

That look was in his eyes again; the faraway look, as if he were deciding something life threatening. He was looking over me, around me, but his thigh was pressed firmly against mine. The material of his khakis against my bare leg, rubbing slightly as he adjusted his position again. 

Before I could even stumble out an apology, he was looking me right in the eyes, much too direct for the embarrassment I had just caused myself. That smile was on his face again, like he knew something I didn’t. But his eyes are what did me in—pupils blown, eyes shades darker than they had been moments before. 

The hand that was on the back of the booth grazed my back gently as he began speaking, causing me to shiver. 

“Before I ask my next question, can I see your ID?” 

I wasn’t sure what he needed it for, but something in his voice told me I didn’t want to say no. I was basically ripping it out of my purse before he could even blink. 

He seemed satisfied by whatever it was that he found. 

“Are you familiar with Karen Horney? The Foundation of Neurosis?” He didn’t give me time to answer. “You know, submitting to others, striving to please,” he spoke, his voice low enough that only I could hear it. 

His hand was no longer on my back, but lightly trailing up my knee, drawing little shapes with his finger as he continued. I shifted into the touch.

“Is this okay?” I nodded. He continued. “That reminds me of you. But I think you’re striving to please in a…different way. Am I right?” 

I swallowed thickly, feeling his hand push up the fabric of his cardigan to continue his journey. The room suddenly felt much too hot. I couldn’t say anything at all. 

He stopped grazing my thigh, and I would’ve had something to say about that if he hadn’t squeezed it not a moment later. 

“When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Am I right?” His voice was rough, strained. He spoke directly into my ear, so close I could feel strands of his hair tickling my cheek. 

“Y–Yes. Yes, you’re right,” I all but whimpered out, still not believing entirely that this was happening. 

His vice-like grip didn’t loosen. “Tch, not quite right. Try again.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl,” he whispered approvingly, his lips brushing against my ear gently. “You’re such a quick learner.” 

He flipped through a few more pages, rubbing soft circles above my knee with his other hand as he did so. Once he was satisfied, he gave my leg a light pat. “Read.” 

“Sorry?” I asked, not quite understanding the sudden change in pace of the conversation. 

“Read aloud to me. It’s a good way of retaining and recalling information.” 

Trying not to show my emotions, I leaned forward in the booth and put my chin on my fist, glaring holes into the print. 

Spencer rubbed his thumb across my bottom lip, chuckling softly at something I didn’t understand. “Don’t pout. You’re going to enjoy this,” he promised, tapping the page in front of us expectantly. 

Like I said, something about the man made me crave his approval, so I listened. 

However, before I could even finish the first sentence, his hand was back on my thigh, running lines up and down the skin like he was searching for a word in a dictionary. I tried to ignore it, to stay focused on the words. 

His hand kept travelling upwards though, and when he tried to gently part my legs, I stopped reading to look up at him questioningly. He didn’t even spare me a glance. 

“Keep reading.” 

His thumb had found the skin on my upper thigh the second I opened my mouth, rubbing gentle circles while he stared at the textbook as if nothing was happening. I didn’t want him to stop, as pathetic as it was, so I kept reading. 

I had been doing extremely well, in my opinion, for someone in my situation, until his pointer finger grazed the fabric of my underwear for hardly a millisecond. I couldn’t contain my gasp. 

His grip on my thigh tightened once again as he leaned in impossibly closer to speak. “Do you want the people in here to know what you’re doing? What I’m doing to you under this table?” I shook my head. “Then keep reading. Make another noise that isn’t related to this textbook and I’m done.” 

Something in his voice told me he was being serious. And, God, I wasn’t the type to let strange men fondle me under tables in public, I swear. But he was so handsome, and I hadn’t been touched by another person in what felt like centuries. I deserved this. I needed this. 

He was testing the waters after my slip up, I knew he was. He had hardly gone near the area I so desperately wanted him to touch and I was on the brink of tears, feeling him graze and brush my thighs with a tenderness that his voice did not possess. 

But then his touch was anything but. 

Without any prompt, any warning, he slid a finger inside me. It would’ve been uncomfortable, too, if not for the fact that I was basically soaking my underwear by that point. And he hadn’t even done anything. I was pathetic. 

He seemed to agree. 

“So eager already? In that short little sundress, your tight cunt so ready for me in minutes, you’re basically asking for me to fuck you on this table where everyone can see how disgusting you are.” 

Everything about that sentence surprised me. For one, I didn’t think I’d hear such words come out of his mouth when he walked into the lecture hall that morning. And secondly, I’d never been talked to like that before. No one would believe me if I told them I enjoyed it. Immensely. 

He seemed to tell, picking up the speed at which he was pumping his finger in and out of me. I had to bite my hand to stop myself from whimpering. 

The situation was somehow my wildest dreams come true and something I’d never been able to imagine. But as all good things in my life are, it was ruined. By the obnoxious ringing of a cell phone. 

“Goddammit,” he cursed under his breath, pulling his hand away from me and wiping it on the napkin on the table. I was much too cold for my liking, even with his cardigan engulfing me. 

“Yes, sir,” he spoke into his phone with an ease of submission, his voice pitches higher as it had been while he spoke to me and hundreds of others on why some people just have to die. It was a complete turnaround from the man mumbling obscenities in my ear moments before. “Right, I understand. I’ll be there right away.” 

We had a mutual understanding that the moment was over. I could easily dissect that it was a work call. He was an important man with a government job, after all. 

He hardly had time to say goodbye, but he did scribble his number messily on the same napkin he had wiped my slick on when the call interrupted us. It perfectly depicted the surreal reality of the situation. 

As he scurried out of the shop, I was struck with a pang in my stomach that told me that might be the last time I ever see Dr. Spencer Reid. 

But, I thought, pushing the sleeves up on my new favorite cardigan, at least I had something to remember him from. His forgetfulness did not come as a surprise or a displeasure. I could use a reminder that this was not a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is my first time writing Spencer Reid so I’m still trying to work on the characterization, I’m sorry if it isn’t the best. This first chapter may seem rushed because I was just super excited about my idea but I hope it’s still enjoyable nonetheless! Please leave feedback!!


	3. The Wrong Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would say anything if it would make you happy. But we both know where this is going to lead to.

Unsurprisingly, Spencer wasn’t the type to bust his load inside of someone and then leave immediately after. He was caring, he was gentle, and he was making it damn near impossible to keep my promise to myself that I wouldn’t get a stupid schoolgirl crush on him. 

And I told him that I expected just as much—his caring nature, that is, not the fact that I felt much like a 10th grader who just got asked to Homecoming. 

“No one’s ever…done this for me before,” I admitted quietly, watching him wipe my legs with a cool washcloth. His movements were so soft, so calculated. His eyes were completely focused on the task at hand. 

“Would you rather I not?” He asked, but his words were genuine, his stare now focused on me instead. 

I shook my head weakly, reaching down and grabbing his wrist as if he would disappear any second. “No. I like it.” 

His lips quirked into a tilted smile, and he finished wiping off my thighs before patting my knee and standing up. He towered over me, his expression very serious as I took him in through hooded eyelids, still floating in my post-coital bliss. 

“You are going to use the bathroom, and I am going to get you a change of clothes from…” he trailed off, looking around the apartment as if it would give away the location of my room. 

I pointed aimlessly at the door close to the kitchen, on the opposite side of the apartment from my roommate, and sent him a thumbs up hoping he’d get my signal. 

He nodded once before continuing. “Right. And then you’re going to meet me in your room, and you’re going to rest. Got it?” 

“Sir, yes, sir!” I mock saluted, but didn’t move from my comfortable spot on the couch. My underwear was still pulled around my ankles. 

My heart stuttered at the thought of him being in my bedroom, being in my bed. It was somehow much more intimate than him being inside of me. 

Would he profile my room like he probably profiled my every move? What would he be able to tell based on a few sparse glances? Would he like what he found?

I was dragged from my thoughts by his stern voice. 

“These aren’t suggestions.” 

I stuck out my bottom lip, giving him my best puppy dog eyes, but his expression didn’t falter. With a huff, I pulled up my underwear and sat up, stretching my legs. 

His eyes softened, and I shot him a sickly sweet smile; he pointedly ignored it, instead turning on his heel and walking towards my room. 

After I used the bathroom, I found myself staring into my own eyes in the reflection of the mirror. They were glassy, probably from the tears I shed only minutes before. My hair was tangled, mussed up with little knots from where Spencer’s fingers had wrapped themselves in it. My lips were glossy still, bright red and swollen. 

I looked like a mess. And yet, Spencer never gave any indication that he was disgusted with me. Although I suppose that being a good liar was something that came naturally to an FBI agent, so I couldn’t get my hopes up too high. 

Hopes about what, precisely, I wasn’t sure. But I knew that I was already much too attached to a man who already wanted to cut the strings once before. 

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts, and gave myself a reassuring smile in the mirror. Though it looked more like a grimace, it would have to do.

When I entered my bedroom, a loose shirt and clean panties were folded neatly on my bed, and beside them was seated a very uncomfortable looking Spencer Reid. He was nearly holding himself up with his palms, taking up as little space as possible. 

“You won’t get in trouble for being in my room. You know that, right?” 

He chuckled, situating himself more, but I could still see the stiffness in his shoulders. 

Deciding not to say anything and risk making him even more tense, I walked over to the bed to change. Once I had taken his cardigan off, I held it tightly to my chest. 

I wanted to ask the question burning in my lungs, but I was too afraid to risk the outcome. 

Still, Spencer could tell something was on my mind. So when he asked if I was alright, I knew there was no way I could lie to him. Not with the glimmer in his eyes, the concern shining through. 

“Can I…” I cleared my throat, laughing quietly as I shook my head. “Do you need this back?” 

When a smile broke across Spencer’s face, I was surprised. And awestruck, of course, because that glimmer in his eyes was even brighter than before. 

He gently grabbed my elbow, leading me to stand in front of him between his legs. With one hand, he brushed my hair behind my ear, while the other rubbed circles on the bruise forming on my hip. 

He was looking up at me, and from where I was I could study every fleck of color in his eyes. It was breathtaking. 

“You can keep it if you want, pup,” he replied, his voice soft and airy. 

“Pup?” I questioned, cocking my head to the side and ignoring the break in my voice. 

He let go of me and gestured to my frame as if that would somehow clear up my question. When I didn’t move or answer, he exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. 

Pulling me down to his level, he put his hands softly on my cheeks and grinned. “You’re excited and curious, like a puppy. My little pup,” he cooed. 

I basically preened at his words, feeling the heat work itself up my cheeks. 

Meeting his eyes, I found himself already staring intently at me. He had his bottom lip between his teeth, looking very thoughtful, his eyes flickering between my own and my lips. 

I was suddenly too afraid of the intimacy of the situation we were in, and found myself pulling away even though I didn’t want to. 

Clearing my throat, I stepped around where he was seated and placed his cardigan on my bed. In a moment's notice, I had slipped on the faded yellow shirt and rainbow boy shorts Spencer picked out. 

“These aren’t very sexy,” I joked, hopping onto the bed beside him and crossing my legs. 

“Well, after intercourse, you can be really sensitive, so your comfort is most important.” Then, a moment later, “Besides, you look sexy no matter what,” he added under his breath. 

I shoved his shoulder playfully, trying to act like his words didn’t affect me as much as they did. 

“Says you,” I muttered, thinking back to how delightful such filthy words sounded falling from his lips. I shivered at the memory. 

It was absolutely rewarding to see his cheeks flushed in a dusty rose, pretending not to notice him suppressing the smile on his face. 

I crawled up further onto the bed, pulling back the comforter and patting the spot beside me. I really hoped I wouldn’t embarrass myself by asking him to stay. 

Thankfully, I didn’t. 

His shoes were abandoned at the foot of the bed, and he was beside me a second later. Although he situated himself under the blanket, he was stiff and stayed as far away from me as humanly possible. 

I didn’t want to point out his discomfort and make it worse, but I wanted him to know he was welcome. 

“Can you play with my hair? It helps me sleep.” 

He hummed a noise of agreement and I felt him slide closer to me. A moment later, I felt his nimble fingers gently pulling out my knots. 

“Physical contact with someone you’re comfortable with can release oxytocin. It also reduces cortisol levels, which helps relieve stress. That’s probably why it helps you sleep,” he said from behind me, but I could tell he was still further than I wanted. 

Without thinking, I reached behind me and grabbed his wrist, putting his arm around my waist. 

For a moment, his movements ceased, but then he continued. Having him with me like this felt like second nature. 

We sat like that for awhile, his hands running through my hair while I tried to pretend like my heart wasn’t pounding. It was a comfortable silence regardless of the butterflies swarming in my stomach. 

He broke the silence with an unexpected question. 

“Murakami?” 

“Yeah. Are you a fan?” I asked, flipping over so I could face him. 

A smile spread across his face briefly, and he nodded eagerly. 

“Did you know he started writing in English before writing in Japanese? He wasn’t very adept at English, but he wanted to see how it sounded in the language. It’s better to read the originals than the translations, in my opinion.”

“Why do you think I have copies of both?” I asked, grinning so wide it hurt my cheeks. 

“You speak Japanese?”

“What kind of Linguistics major would I be if I only spoke English? Japanese, Mandarin, Polish, Russian, and ASL.” 

My sentence seemed to strike a wire in him, like he wasn’t sure which fact to spout first, because he was sputtering for a minute. 

Apparently he settled on none of them. Instead, he asked, “what’s your favorite work of his?” 

And of course, that turned into one endless conversation after the other. It seemed like hours later when I finally drifted off, his hand still around my waist. 

My last thought was about how much warmth he provided. 

But of course, all good things must come to an end. When I awoke, my bed was freezing cold. I found an empty space where he would’ve been. 

I was hurt for a moment, until I saw the sticky note left on the pillow he had used. 

_Got called into work. Next time I see you I’ll make up for our coffee excursion. Deal?_ Written in his adorably messy handwriting, and I just couldn’t stay upset. 

My heart skipped a beat, rejoicing in the fact that there would be a “next time” to look forward to. I was resigned to the fact that I would not get enough of Dr. Spencer Reid anytime soon. 

The only problem was keeping those stupid butterflies at bay. 

By the next time I saw Spencer, four days later, the fluttering hadn’t ceased for a second. 

I had been replaying every word he spoke over and over in my head, trying to pinpoint what it was about him that made me tick. But in a good way, like an expensive pocketwatch, or a hand carved grandfather clock.

He knocked on my door unexpectedly. 

“Spencer? I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” I leaned against the doorframe, trying to ignore how the pale bags under his eyes seemed darker than usual. 

“How about that coffee I promised you?” His hands were tucked into his pockets, his scarf loosely around his neck. I was no profiler, but it was easy to see he was forcing his nonchalant attitude. 

I wanted to ask him what was wrong, I wanted to try and fix it. But I could tell he wasn’t going to say anything regardless, and I didn’t want to push. 

If he was coming to me to take his mind off something bad, why would I make it worse? I was stunned that my apartment was even on his radar. 

I slipped on his cardigan before we left, which he said nothing to. But I didn’t miss the smirk on his face when I left my bedroom. 

We walked to the coffee shop in silence, one which I was too scared to break. Every moment felt fragile, and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. 

“I’ll order for you. Go find a seat,” he said, pressing a hand to the small of my back. 

The domesticity of him ordering for me, the intimacy of him remembering my order, left my head spinning as I sat myself in the same booth we found ourselves in before. 

Of course, he was just being polite. And he was a genius, so he probably remembered everything. Despite telling myself this, I couldn’t find it in me to get the birds around my head to go away. 

Much to my dismay, he sat across from me this time, pushing my drink towards me with a small smile. 

“Thank you,” I whispered, tenderly grabbing my cup. I was still afraid of breaking whatever comradery we had built. 

“Use your big girl words,” he replied without hesitation, leaning forward with his chin in his hand to look at me. 

“Those are big girl words!” I replied, not even noticing the oddity of the situation I was in. He only shook his head at me, that stupid grin on his face once again. 

I took my drink down in large gulps, but quickly found myself with brain freeze. I winced, squeezing my eyes shut tight and willing the pain to go away. 

“Here, open.” 

I opened my eyes, only to see Spencer with his hand held out to me. 

Raising an eyebrow in question, I slowly opened my mouth. Without even a second of hesitation, he pressed his thumb against the roof of my mouth. 

My cheeks flushed, my eyes scanning around the room to make sure no one was looking at us. Spencer didn’t seem to mind. 

He looked as casual as ever, even running his thumb across my tongue before he pulled it out. 

“I have some books to recommend you,” he said, acting like nothing had even happened. 

Spencer Reid was going to be the death of me. And he didn’t even care! 

Well, two could play at that game. 

“Do tell,” I responded, hoping he wouldn’t know my plans just from the sound of my voice. 

While he began speaking about Tolstoy and Chekhov, I slowly slid my foot along the inside of his leg. 

He raised his eyebrow, but didn’t stop speaking. 

I was going to have to try harder than that. 

It’s not that I wasn’t interested in what he was saying, but he knew what he did to me. I wanted him to feel the same way. 

When my foot finally reached his thigh, his hand shot down and grabbed it. He still didn’t stop speaking. 

But I interrupted him. 

“That’s not fair!” I huffed, crossing my arms and sinking down in my seat. 

“Stop pouting.” 

“No! You’re not being fair.”

“One.” 

My blood ran cold. “One what?” 

“One day you’re not allowed to cum.”

“Spencer! We’re in public!” I squeaked, the meaning of his words not quite hitting me until after I closed my mouth. 

“It’s not stopping you, is it? Do you think rules don’t apply to you?” He cocked his head to the side, begging me to give him an answer that wasn’t obedient. 

“I’d prefer if they didn’t,” I grumbled, glaring holes into the table. 

“Two.” 

“Wh–no! That’s not even fair! I wasn’t doing anything wrong!”

“Three.” 

Finally, I sat up in my seat, dropping my leg from where it was and readjusting my position. I wasn’t getting what I wanted either way. 

“Good girl. Finish your drink, please. I have a gift for you when we get back to your place.” 

That really caught my attention. 

My mind was racing with possibilities. What kind of gift was it? Why would he even get me a gift? Did this mean anything? Was it a parting gift? Was I reading too much into it? 

I knew the answer to that one. A solid yes. 

Eyeing his messenger bag, I finished my drink as quickly as possible without getting brain freeze a second time around. 

He had been waiting on me for a while, so he stood up and held out his hand as soon as I was finished. I took it silently and let him lead me out. 

“Is the gift in your bag?” 

I couldn’t help myself. The wait was killing me, and the walk to my apartment was suddenly longer than it had ever been before. 

“You’ll see when we get there,” was his reply, and he didn’t say anything the rest of the walk. 

That would have put me on edge normally, but he hadn’t dropped my hand when we left the coffee shop. All I could feel was his warm skin against my own and the feeling had me elated. 

If not for the gift, I wouldn’t have been able to focus on anything else except my hand in his own. 

When we finally entered my apartment, I tugged him into my room before even taking my shoes off. 

I shut the door behind us and turned to him, eagerly bouncing on my heels. 

He looked amused, but didn’t speak. 

“Come on, Spencer, can I have my gift now?” I begged, the pout on my face evident. 

“I don’t know…you didn’t behave very well back at the coffee shop.” 

“I already got a punishment for that! Please?” I was practically whining now, throwing in puppy dog eyes for extra measures. 

He nodded, and I clapped quietly while he reached into his messenger bag. He didn’t seem as composed as before, suddenly looking very nervous. 

I never would’ve expected what he pulled out. 

It was a light pink faux leather collar with a little heart charm, and he held it out shyly. When I took it in my hands, I rubbed the charm between my fingers, and found that his name was engraved on the heart. 

“It’s, um, well…it’s kind of like me asking you to officially be my submissive. Like, it’s me saying that I’ll only have sex with you and you’ll only have sex with me. But you can say no! You don’t have to say yes.” 

I grinned up at him, not even bothering to think about any other implications. All I knew was this was certainly what I wanted. 

“I’d love that. Will you put it on me?” 

He nodded, his eyes wide in surprise. I turned around, and he placed it on my neck with shaking hands. 

When I turned back around, I took a leap of faith and stood on my tiptoes, leaning forward and giving him a soft kiss on the lips. 

And, apparently, that was the wrong thing to do. 

“I, uh, I have to go. I had a nice time today.” 

I guess even with a symbolic promise, men still only want one thing. It was still nothing but sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! I know there’s no smut in this chapter but there will be a lot in the next one. I hope you enjoyed this! I’m trying to develop their relationship while also making it obvious that Spencer has some reservations. Please please leave feedback so I know that people are liking where this is heading! I don’t want to write if no one is enjoying it. Starting in the next chapter, the chapters will be longer.


	4. I Always Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go to bed before you say something real.

It was a Wednesday when it happened. 

All things considered, I was doing a pretty decent job of pretending Spencer Reid had never existed to begin with. If I tried really hard, I didn’t even notice the violet marks plastered on my skin like a sick reminder of my own naivety. 

He had texted me a few times, apologizing for his sudden exit, assuring me I hadn’t done anything wrong. How was I supposed to believe that? The texts stopped after the third day.

Deep down, I knew that I would never get close to experiencing the same pleasure I had with him, but that wasn’t my main concern. My main concern was not being made to look like a foolish little girl in front of someone who had the ability to make me feel so much like a foolish little girl. It was embarrassing. 

I would be lucky to ever forget the feeling left in my stomach when he ran away from my touch.

And that Wednesday, at nearly midnight, I would learn that Lady Luck was simply not on my side. 

It started simply enough; a knock on my door roused me from my spot on the couch, where my roommate and I had taken to watching the triathlon experience that was _Casablanca_ on VHS. This was our routine, and it was not supposed to be broken. But then again, Spencer Reid decidedly did not care about my routine. 

Despite my countless years of warnings from police and my parents, I yanked the door open without bothering to see who was on the other side. Once I did, a small part of me almost wished it _had_ been a masked murderer and not the fidgety Doctor I had come to know.

Wishing would not change the sight in front of me. There he was, in all his glory, wringing his hands to death as his eyes shifted around the hall, Dr. Spencer Reid. 

“Of all the gin joints, in all all the towns, in all the worlds, she walks into mine,” I quoted, leaning against my door-frame with an unimpressed glare in his vicinity. 

“Did you know that _Casablanca_ is one of the most misquoted movies in history? Woody Allen even named one of his early works ‘Play It Again, Sam’, but that line is never said in the movie,” Spencer replied, nodding his head with a sense of finality as he finished speaking. His eyes had finally come to a rest, focused directly on me, but he was still playing with his fingers mindlessly.

“Is that what you came here to tell me?” 

Although I was usually entranced by the little fun facts and statistics Spencer had ready for me, I was all work and no play in the current moment. He had made it painfully obvious that he was not interested in me, and I wasn’t going to wait around and comb through his every mixed signal until he decided what he wanted. 

“No, actually, uh, I came here to…to, uh, apologize,” he murmured, his voice growing softer with every word. He trained his eyes on the floor, as if he was embarrassed by the admission.

I laughed humorlessly, standing up to my full height and staring up at him with as much meaning as I could muster in my eyes. 

“You don’t have to apologize for not wanting me. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.” 

“No, I do want you!” he exclaimed, and then shook his head. “Kissing makes it too complicated. It’s simple, isn’t it? Two people can just be friends and have sex, that’s all. That’s all it is.” 

I fought back the urge to roll my eyes. Despite my anger at him, he did have a point. We had silently come to a mutual conclusion that we were just two people having sex. Why complicate it by making it something it wasn’t? Why try to change something that was working just fine? 

Instead, I sighed, refusing to meet his eyes because I was scared of what I would see in them. Scared of what they would reflect back onto me. 

“Yeah? How often does that work out, statistically?” I countered, raising an eyebrow in question.

He opened his mouth to answer, but quickly shut it. He shook his head, his curls bouncing in that stupid way that was so adorable, and took a step closer to me. 

“I don’t say this often, but I don’t want to think about statistics. It will work if we make it.”

I knew he was just dodging the answer, holding off the inevitable end this would come to. But I guess it didn’t matter anymore, I was tired of being too scared to ride on the offhand that it would crash. And if it did, at least I still had a good time, I suppose. 

“Okay.” Is what I settled on, finally giving in to what my hormones so desperately wanted. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking utterly surprised that I didn’t continue to fight him on it. After a minute of him opening and closing his mouth silently, he finally responded.

“Okay?” he repeated, his voice cracking at the end. 

I giggled softly, pushing him playfully on the chest with my hand. He was warm, like always.

“Okay. Why are you here so late, anyway?” 

“You’re not wearing my gift,” he whispered, taking another step closer and letting his long fingers run gently across the exposed skin of my neck. He had a small frown on his face, looking all but betrayed.

I shivered involuntarily, crossing my arms around myself as if that would get rid of the feeling already growing in my stomach. That didn’t seem to go unnoticed by him, and his lips quirked up momentarily. 

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again,” I admitted, my voice even quieter than his. 

“Well, I’ll have to make sure I don’t leave you thinking that again.” His voice was low, coming from his chest, and his hand pressed against the front of my neck for a moment before dropping. He took another step, basically pressing himself against me, and leaned down to my height. “Does right now work for you?”

His hair tickled my cheek, his breath hitting my ear and making me shiver again as goosebumps formed on any skin they could find. Every time I was around him, it was like my senses were ignited. I could feel his presence in the air.

I swallowed thickly, turning my head to call out into the living room. “Can we finish the movie tomorrow? I have a visitor.” 

My roommate called out an agreement, and I heard her footsteps coming behind me before I could process what was happening. Like I said, Lady Luck did not take kindly to me. 

“Who’s this?”

My eyes widened, and I shook my head, silently pleading Spencer not to say anything about our situation to my roommate. She was a handful at the best of times, and I did not need her knowing what I was doing with him in my free time. 

“Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m a friend,” he said matter-of-factly, his smile tight and awkward. I would have laughed if I wasn’t feeling the same way. 

“Oh? A _doctor _? Do you happen to be the same friend that attacked her neck like a vampire?”__

__I gasped quietly, turning around and hitting my friend on the arm. “We are going to my room. Goodbye!” I exclaimed, pushing her away from the doorway before leading Spencer inside._ _

__I led the way to my bedroom, ignoring Spencer’s melodic, barking laughter as he followed behind me. When we got inside, I shut the door and turned to face him with a pout on my lips and a spark in my eyes._ _

__“That was not funny!” I groaned, stomping my foot against the ground angrily._ _

__He only laughed harder, before coming to stand in front of me, a mocking frown on his face as he looked into my eyes. I tried not to focus on the butterflies in my stomach, instead attributing them to a different, more primal feeling._ _

__“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” he mumbled, his hand coming up to brush stray hairs out of my face. “I bet you’d look even cuter on your knees,” he cooed._ _

__My cheeks flushed, and I took a step closer to him, but before I could even start kneeling, he grabbed me forcefully by the chin. The glint in his eyes was dangerous, the smirk on his face one I hadn’t seen before._ _

__“Not quite yet. You’re so eager, huh? Where’s your collar?” he asked, brushing my bottom lip with his thumb. It was like I was on autopilot, and without thinking about it, I took his thumb into my mouth and sucked._ _

__His hand loosened for a moment, his eyes darkening, before he pulled back completely. He cradled my neck with the same hand, gently adding pressure and grinning when my eyes widened._ _

__I found myself surprised at the heat pooling in my lower stomach, squeezing my legs together to try to achieve some sort of pleasure._ _

__He cocked his head to the side, using his other hand to run a finger softly across my cheekbone._ _

__“We can use your collar or we can use my hand. Your choice, pup,” he offered, dropping his hand when I pointed to my nightstand where the collar was._ _

__Although I was undoubtedly turned on by the feeling of his hand around my neck, I wasn’t sure I was ready for that just yet. And, admittedly, I wanted a reason to wear the collar again. It made me feel special._ _

__“Stay,” he ordered sternly, patting my head once before turning and retrieving the collar._ _

__An excited giddiness bloomed in my chest as he secured the faux leather around my neck, putting his finger between my skin and the material and tugging to see how secure it was. I loved the feeling of the cool material against me._ _

__“Good girl. On your knees. Now.”_ _

__Once I was on my knees, holding onto his thighs to steady myself, and practically staring his bulge in the eyes, the nerves set in. I had never done this with him before, and I wanted it to be good. Would he still want me if I wasn’t any good?_ _

__“I... I’ve only done this once before,” I confessed quietly, part of me hoping that he wouldn’t understand me. But he did. Of course, he did._ _

__His hand found its way into my hair, massaging my scalp gently and instantly calming me down. I tried to lean into his touch, which was hard in my position, but I was content regardless._ _

__When he spoke, there was no edge to his voice, no command. He was telling me that we didn’t have to do anything that I didn’t want to._ _

__“It’s okay, lovely. Just don’t bite me and I’m sure you’ll be good,” he joked casually, patting my head again to signal me to continue. But only if I was comfortable, that was a silent promise. Never if I wasn’t comfortable._ _

__I took in a deep breath, reassuring myself that things would be fine, before my hands found the buckle of his belt. I undid the belt with shaky fingers, taking much longer than it probably should have. But he didn’t complain. I was grateful for his patience._ _

__Once I undid his pants, I pulled them down slightly, to give me enough access to pull him out of his boxers. The nerves were flaring up again, but I swallowed them down and pulled out his hardening length, pumping it in my hand._ _

__I sped up my movements, twisting my wrist as I did so, and I felt his grip on my hair tighten. That encouraged me, so carefully, I leaned forward and licked a drop of precum off the head with the very tip of my tongue, barely applying pressure._ _

__I licked a stripe up the underside of his cock and he let out a shaky breath, tightening his grip even more. I continued pumping him with one hand, using the other to steady myself, until he stopped me._ _

__“Open your mouth,” he commanded, and I did as he said, opening my mouth and flattening my tongue. “Keep your hands to yourself.”_ _

__Uneasily, I let go of his thigh and placed both of my hands against the top of my own legs, waiting patiently with my head tilted and my mouth open. In one swift movement, he gripped the back of my head and forced it down onto the length of his cock._ _

__I took in all I could, but gagged as he kept going, paying me no mind. He pressed my head down as far as it would go, leaving me there to struggle for breath for a moment once it was. I forced myself to breathe through my nose, ignoring the tears coming to my eyes as his cock hit the back of my throat again._ _

__He pulled me back by my hair, allowing me to take in one deep breath, before forcing my head down again. He snapped his hips back and forth quickly, fucking my face with a fervent pace._ _

__My head was starting to ache from the pressure he was using to pull my hair, but I wasn’t going to complain. Not while he was above me, his moans so soft, and him muttering praises for me under his breath. I hadn’t known that being called a ‘fucktoy’ could be so flattering before._ _

__He sped up, and I could feel his cock twitch inside my mouth, but right before I thought he was going to finish, he pulled out completely, dropping his hand from my head as he did so._ _

__“Stand up.”_ _

__Shakily, I got to my feet, ignoring the sting in my knees, and stood in front of him as I waited for his next order. I didn’t even wipe the drool off my chin, keeping my hands together in front of me as he wordlessly took in my figure._ _

__“Look at you, in your Batman pajama pants. So, so _sweet_ ,” he commented, smiling softly before motioning to me with a wave of his hand. “Strip.” _ _

__I had no time to be self conscious, tugging up my shirt and starting to pull it over my head._ _

__“Slower,” he ordered, exasperation in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe he had to clarify._ _

__I slowed down, taking more time with pulling my shirt off before throwing it into the corner. He whistled lowly as I did so, meeting my eyes with a cheeky smile._ _

__“No bra again? Were you expecting me?”_ _

__My cheeks heated up, but I ignored his comment, instead focusing on taking off my pants. Once I had them off, I felt exposed, but he was looking at me with so much emotion in his eyes that it didn’t matter._ _

__When I hooked my thumbs in my panties, he stopped me, shaking his head gently and motioning to the bed with his thumb. “Leave them. On the bed, pup.”_ _

__I crawled onto the bed, sitting in the middle and letting my legs dangle off the edge. He removed the rest of his clothes, and I tried to will the heat in my cheeks to go away as I took in his frame, my eyes scanning over every inch of his body._ _

__When he noticed, his cheeks lit up, but he said nothing, instead crawling on top of me on the bed and pushing me back against the mattress. He hovered over me, staring into my eyes for a moment that was far too intense, before leaning down and pressing chaste kisses against my neck._ _

__With his knee, he knocked my legs open, situating himself between him. As he continued to suck a bruise into the sensitive skin of my collarbone, I felt his length pressing heavily against my covered center._ _

__I let out a moan, louder than I meant to, as he took my nipple into his mouth without warning. He sucked on it for a moment, his hand coming up and pinching my other nipple as he did so. With that, I let out a louder moan, squirming underneath him._ _

__He pulled back, resting against his heels, and started pulling my underwear down. “And that’s what these are for. Wouldn’t want to bother your roommate, would we?”_ _

__Before I could ask what he was talking about, he balled up my underwear and shoved them into my already opened mouth. I glared at him, but didn’t retort, and he rubbed circles into my hip, mumbling “good girl” under his breath._ _

__He started pressing kisses down my chest, to my stomach. I curled his hair between my fingers and tugged, enjoying the sigh that left his lips._ _

__“Hey, (Y/N)?”_ _

__I didn’t have time to react before the door was ripped open, my roommate staring at Spencer and I with a wide grin on her face. She looked absolutely delighted. I wanted to crawl under my bed and be consumed by the dark space that rested there._ _

__“Ha! I knew it!” She exclaimed, bringing her hands up to her face. I didn’t recognize what was happening until a flash blinded me, and she was gone as soon as she entered._ _

__“Oh my god,” I muttered, covering my eyes with my hands squeezing them shut. I could hear Spencer laughing above me. “I’m so sorry.”_ _

__When I looked up at him, he was smiling down at me brightly, his eyes crinkled and his teeth showing. It nearly took my breath away._ _

__It took everything in me not to kiss Spencer right then and there, to remind myself that I couldn’t cross the boundaries we had established._ _

__“Do you wanna watch a movie?” I asked instead._ _

__He looked confused for a moment, but finally nodded, situating himself beside me underneath the comforter. He looked so cute, his cheeks flushed, his hair a mess, and I was really trying to convince myself that those butterflies weren’t real._ _

__But they were._ _

__And I was going to have to deal with the implications of that._ _

__As Spencer sat beside me, rattling off statistics about which groups of people preferred which genre of movie, I came to a conclusion._ _

__I was catching serious feelings for Spencer Reid and he could never know._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I know I said this chapter would be longer but I decided to change some things so the turn really starts in the next chapter. I hope you all enjoyed this and please, please leave feedback because that lets me know people are reading and gives me motivation to keep writing. Also, do you prefer Spencer's long hair or his shorter hair? I'm rewatching S6 right now and I'm really not a fan.


	5. Back to Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Reach out to touch, feel these quivers rush through_

One thing I always prided myself on was my intelligence. Growing up, I wasn’t the prettiest, or the funniest, or the most athletic. That was fine with me; I had my smarts. 

I trusted that my intelligence would guide me through everything in life, that it would never let me down. Generally speaking, that proved to be true. 

However, when I woke up to feel Spencer Reid’s arms wrapped around me, I was completely dumbfounded. There was no amount of studying or researching that could’ve prepared me for the way my heart leapt into my throat. 

I had slept so soundly the night before that when I first opened my eyes I was sure the events had to have been a dream. I was quickly proven wrong. 

My head was buried in his chest, and I had to crane my neck to see him properly. The sight was breathtakingly beautiful. 

His head had lolled to the side, so that if I scooted up we would be face-to-face, and I could see every tiny freckle that graced his skin. With the light coming through my blinds hitting his face, his stubble was prominent, basically begging to be kissed. 

So, without thinking, I pressed a kiss, soft as feathers, to his jaw. He stirred, but thankfully didn’t wake up. I didn’t know if all kisses were completely off limits, but I was sure I had crossed the emotional boundaries we just set in place. I had crossed mine, at least.

His mouth was slightly open, and that small fact was so simple, yet so comforting to me. It was a nice reminder that the brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid was, at the end of the day, just as human as the rest of us. He had his flaws and his faults; from where I sat, memorizing the bump of his nose, I was determined to know them all. 

His grip tightened on me and he pulled me closer, forcing my eyes back to his chest as he nuzzled his face into my hair. I wasn’t the most comfortable I’d ever been, but he radiated warmth, and I figured Spencer didn’t get many opportunities to sleep in, so I closed my eyes and let him be. 

The moment was so serene, so peaceful, that I didn’t want it to end. I had never felt more comfortable than I did wrapped in Spencer’s arms, our legs intertwined like some complicated trick puzzle. His simple presence put a warmth in my chest, easing up the tension that I normally carried with me. 

Letting the feeling of him envelop me, I drifted off once again into a dreamless slumber. 

When I awoke the second time, it was to the feeling of Spencer’s lips trailing kisses down my neck. He started at my jaw, pressing chaste kisses to every visible inch of skin, before straddling me as he continued down the front of my neck. The weight of his body on top of mine was nothing compared to the feeling of his tongue against the sensitive flesh of my collarbone.

Without warning, he began sucking a bruise into the column of my throat. Finally, my eyes fluttered open as my hand shot out to grab his forearm, my fingers digging into the skin. He pulled back, his hair falling in his eyes while he smirked up at me. 

“Good morning,” he whispered, his voice still raspy with the remnants of sleep. It was the most beautiful noise I’d ever heard. 

My eyes met his, smiling softly at the fact that the usual bags there seemed lighter than usual. Maybe, just maybe, he had found as much comfort in my arms as I had found in his. It was wishful thinking, I know, but the small part of me that was romanticizing every detail of his being couldn’t help but do it. 

Even here, with him on top of me, I was still thinking about how good it felt to wake up in his arms. How badly I wanted to do that every morning. And I knew, if this was going to work, I had to get rid of those thoughts as soon as possible.

“Good morning, yourself. What are you doing?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. It was pretty obvious what he was doing, but I hadn’t expected him to be revving to go so early in the morning.

As bad as this sounded, Spencer was considerably older than me. I imagined that, at some point, his libido would be lowered. I guess that it hadn’t happened yet, though. Not that I was exactly complaining.

“Wake up call,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the bruise forming on my neck before adjusting his position, settling at the end of the bed between my legs. My chest was heaving with excitement. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asked quietly, before pressing soft kisses on my inner thigh. His breath was warm, his stubble tickling the sensitive skin feeling very pleasurable. 

I couldn’t respond, too focused on keeping my breathing steady as his kisses got closer and closer to the one spot where his lips had yet to stray, though I wanted them there so badly. Unsatisfied with my lack of response, Spencer bit down lightly on my thigh.

“You know what I’ve said about answering me,” he said, a teasing tilt to his voice as he leaned his cheek against my leg, looking up at me through his eyelashes with a lazy smile. My heart almost stopped beating then and there. 

“I slept good,” I managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper as he continued kissing my thigh with his soft lips. He pressed a kiss above my pubic bone before moving to the other leg.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just kept pressing light kisses against my skin. Every few seconds, he would go dangerously close to my core, but never touch what I wanted him to. I was scared I was going to pass out from holding my breath.

“Tell me about your dreams.” 

I opened my mouth to respond, but as soon as I got the first word out, he flattened his tongue and licked a strip up my slit. I was unable to contain the moan that fell from my lips, immediately bucking up into his face. 

With one hand, he held my hips down, using the other to grab onto my thigh. “Keep talking if you want me to finish.” 

I let out a shaky breath before continuing, forcing myself to keep talking even as I felt his tongue against me once more. He took my clit into his mouth, sucking harshly as he easily slid a finger inside of me. 

Still, I forced myself to keep going. He wouldn’t let up, and I couldn’t hear my own voice over the sound of my heart pounding. He slid his finger in and out of me at a quick pace, all the while dragging his tongue around my clit at a hurtfully slow rate.

My words got quicker as I got closer, and just when I was about to come, he pulled back completely. There was a grin so wide on his face you would’ve thought he was the cat that ate the canary.

“Remember when you got bold at the coffee shop?” he asked before I could even protest, always one step ahead of me.

“That’s not fair! It’s been more than three days!” I spluttered out, silently begging him to stop talking and put his tongue to better use.

“Doesn’t count if we aren’t together, pup,” he cooed mockingly, patting my thigh before sitting up completely. “I have plans for us. Stop whining and get dressed or else I’ll add another day.”

I scrambled out of bed, ignoring Spencer’s amused chuckles, and rushed to my closet. Despite the harsh winds during this season, I still settled on a pale pink undershirt and a denim overall dress. I wasn’t sure where we were going, but I got hot very easily, and I definitely didn’t want to be sweaty and gross around him. I wanted to look good. 

After I got dressed, I exited my bedroom as quietly as possible, relieved to find that my roommate had already left for the day. Her walking in on us was awful enough; I didn’t need to be teased about it the morning after. 

While I was brushing my teeth, my thoughts started running away from me. I had no idea what Spencer had planned, or why he planned it, or anything about his intentions, really. Hell, I hardly knew anything about him in general. Just that I was becoming infatuated and it wasn’t going to end very well for me. 

Still, I thought, he had to appreciate me for a little more than my body if he was staying the night and taking me out the next day. Friends make plans, they spend time together. I was overthinking everything he did when none of it meant anything. 

When I reentered my room, Spencer was wearing his clothes from the day before, sitting on the edge of my bed and playing with his fingers. His hair was unruly, but I could tell that he had attempted to comb it out with his hands, much to no avail. He looked about as put together as I felt around him. 

“You sure you want to take me anywhere? Those are your clothes from yesterday,” I said, as if he didn’t already know what he was wearing.

Again, I wasn’t exactly training to be an FBI profiler, but I remembered his apprehension about shaking anyone’s hand on the day we met; he doesn’t seem like he’d enjoy wearing dirty clothes very much. 

He shook his head, standing up and crossing my room in under a second, before leading me into the leaving area by my elbow. Apparently, he was in a rush.

As he replied, he turned to face me and secured my collar around my neck. I didn’t even know he had it, but I loved the intense concentration on his features as he fastened the back. The material against my skin ignited butterflies in my stomach, loving the knowledge that I was his.

“We’re stopping by my apartment. You look cute,” his last words were a soft whisper against my neck, causing me to shiver as he pressed a light kiss right under my ear.

I could barely comprehend that I was following him out of my place and down the stairs. My head was still spinning from his words. I knew I shouldn’t read too much into anything Spencer did, but that didn’t stop me. He was trusting me enough to see where he lived.

Of course, he had been to my apartment multiple times. But I was a horny college student and he was a distinguished FBI Agent. There was a difference. 

Foolishly, I wondered if he would invite me in. I shook the naive thoughts out of my head just as we reached his car, Spencer so kindly opening my door for me and waiting for me to buckle before slamming it shut. 

“Who would’ve thought you were such a gentleman?” I teased, looking at him out of the corner of my eye as he started the car. 

He cleared his throat, a half-smile on his lips. “A gentleman is someone who does not what he wants to do, but what he should do.” 

“Murakami,” I replied easily, before adding, “You don’t want to open doors for your lover?”

The tip of his ear and his cheeks flushed at my words, and he tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel repeatedly. It was such a stark contrast to the man who ordered me on my knees the night before, but it was so obviously him. I felt privileged to be able to experience the many different angles of Dr. Spencer Reid. 

“Did you know the term ‘lover’ originated in the 13th century? In Middle Dutch, it was originally the plural for ‘loof’, leaf, but then it was used as its own noun.” 

Spencer was very good at dodging questions with his endless bounds of knowledge, but I suppose I couldn’t fault him for that. If I could sidetrack any uncomfortable conversation with some interesting fact, I probably would too. 

However, it was very interesting watching him squirm. Considering that I did most of the squirming, I wasn’t going to let him get off the hook so easily. Even if I paid for this later, I was enjoying myself too much watching him blush.

“You didn’t even ask what form of the word I meant.”

He didn’t hesitate for even a second.

“I’m assuming you mean ‘a person with which you are having sex’, because we aren’t participating in an affair, as far as I’m aware of.” 

“You mean it’s only my mouth you’re shoving underwear into?” I asked with feigned awe, putting my hand over my heart and batting my eyelashes, a grin on my lips.

Apparently, I wasn’t as good at making him squirm as I thought I was. While I was fooling myself thinking he was putty in my hands, he was waiting to make his move. And I had given him the perfect opportunity. 

He fisted my hair so quickly I didn’t have time to blink, pulling my head back and smiling as I winced. Without taking his eyes off the road, he replied.

“I’ll pull over right now and shove something else in your mouth if you keep acting so smart.”

His words shot a wave of heat to my lower stomach, but I wasn’t giving up so easily. 

“Don’t tempt me, Doctor.” 

Once again, he pulled my head back, rougher than the first time. A whine fell from my lips, which he clearly enjoyed, because I saw his eyes flicker to me for the briefest of moments. I was playing a game I was destined to lose, and he was enjoying watching me realize that. 

He let my hair go, smoothing it down softly, before pulling back and placing his hand on the wheel once more. Suddenly he seemed more reserved, and I wondered momentarily if I had done something wrong, but I didn’t have to fret very long. Sensing my worry, he began speaking, his tone much more serious this time. 

“I want to reiterate that you can change your mind about this at any time. Anything you’re uncomfortable with, we don’t have to do. First and foremost, I want you to trust me. Everything else is irrelevant if you don’t trust me. Having a Dom/sub relationship is about more than sex; it’s about trust, comfort, and safety. And as your Dominant, I want to keep you safe. This is why I want to discuss daily rules with you.” 

He spoke quickly and with purpose, his voice gentle as he explained. I could still sense his nerves, though, because he kept sparing me glances instead of keeping his eyes on the road.

“Okay. What are daily rules?” 

“Daily rules are rules that you, as my submissive, still have to follow even when we aren’t engaging in a sexual scene. I come up with them, and it’s your job to remember them. If you don’t follow them, you receive a punishment, which can be either sexual or nonsexual. These are optional, I won’t make or enforce any if you aren’t interested.” 

I thought about it for a long moment, letting the idea sink in. He had explained to me that, as a submissive, I was technically the one in control; I was giving him permission to do these things, which couldn’t be done without my consent. But it was still, at base, giving up control. And I liked the idea of him being in control of me, I liked the idea of doing what he wanted. 

More than anything, I liked the idea of having some semblance of routine with him. It was something small, but it excited me. I didn’t have to consider the idea for very long. 

“Are there rewards?” I asked, pretending to weigh my options even though I already knew my answer. 

He smiled, his whole face lighting up, and nodded affirmatively. “If you want there to be.” 

“I think I’d enjoy that a lot.” 

Before he could respond, his phone started ringing. Based on the way his face fell, I deduced that our plans would have to be postponed. When he hung up, my thoughts were confirmed. 

I wasn’t upset, though. In fact, I was over the moon with joy. He kept his hand on my thigh the entire way back to my apartment, and promised me he’d find time to work on my rules while he was away. As I exited the car, he promised to text me when he landed.

Despite the abrupt ending to the day, I had a lot to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys I hope you enjoyed this!! Sorry it took so long, I was changing some ideas around. But I've started working on a coffee shop AU during this time that I'm excited about! The next chapter should be out next week. Also please comment if there's any kinks you want for them to explore! Please please leave feedback; AO3 doesn't show hits by chapter, so I don't know how many people are actively reading. Comments are what keep me going!


	6. Ferry Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I may never know what could be,  
> And I won’t find out till you drift to me

There’s a certain moment in life when one decides to throw caution to the wind. After so many years worrying about every possible outcome of every single move you make, you just get tired. It gets old, I suppose, constantly waiting for the dam to break. The suspense dies down. 

I told myself that day would never come. That, no matter what, I would always be on my toes, always waiting for the unavoidable downfall. For a long time, I stayed true to my word. Nothing could break my resolve.

Very quickly, I learned that my resolve was a house of cards when it came to Spencer. A shift in the wind and it would all come crumbling down. It was only a matter of time until it happened; the foundation had been shaking since the moment we met. 

I suppose that’s why it was so easy for him to draw me in. Even from hundreds of miles away, I could feel that gravitational pull. If I closed my eyes and imagined, I was right there in his arms. He wasn’t trying very hard to push those thoughts away, either. 

Since the moment he landed in Oregon, he had been texting me every moment he could. I often found myself falling asleep with my phone still in my hand, waiting for his response in the late nights of the hour. 

I felt closer to him than ever before, despite the distance. He would text me when he woke up, when he went to bed, when he couldn’t sleep. I felt important. 

It still took me by surprise when I was pulled from my sleep by the sound of his ringtone. Checking my clock, I found that it was 4:00 A.M., so only 1:00 A.M. for him, but still late all the same. And I was nervous, I suppose, because he had never called me while he was away. I felt like I was intruding on something private when I answered.

“Spencer? Why are you awake?” I asked, my voice still hoarse with sleep, and I hoped he didn’t notice. 

I could hear him shuffling through the speaker, probably trying to ease his nerves, and heard him clear his throat before he responded. “We moved to a new hotel. I have the room to myself and, uh, I missed you.” 

Though my heart skipped a beat, I didn’t want him to know how much his words affected me. 

“Did you wake me up in the middle of the night for phone sex?” I teased, rolling over in bed and closing my eyes as I listened to his steady breathing on the other end. I knew I would oblige if he asked, but I really hoped he missed me and not just what we did to each other. 

He didn’t laugh, and when he responded I immediately knew something was wrong. His voice didn’t carry its usual airy cadence it had when he spoke to me, and if I listened closely enough I swore it sounded like he was crying. 

“Spence? What’s wrong?” I didn’t bother to keep the panic out of my voice. Knowing his line of work, there were a number of scenarios running through my head, each of them worse than the last.

I was seeing him tied to a chair, locked up in some basement, a gun to his head. I was seeing him in danger, and I was miles away with no way to help. My breathing quickened without my knowledge. 

Apparently Spencer could sense my oncoming panic attack before I could, because he responded by trying to soothe me, his voice even and soft. I could imagine him using the same tone with a crying toddler.

“I’m in my room. I’m safe. I just wanted to hear your voice. Can you distract me? Please?” 

Two things about what Spencer said stuck out to me. One being that he chose to say ‘safe’ instead of ‘fine’, because Spencer was always purposeful with his words. The second being the desperation in his voice when he said ‘please’. I decided not to comment on either.

Spencer needed a distraction, and if he chose me to be the one to help with that, I didn’t want to let him down. I never wanted to let him down.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down, and adjusted the phone so that I wouldn’t have to keep holding it while I spoke.

“I came up with a nickname for you.” 

“Yeah? What is it?” Despite whatever was bothering him, I could hear the smile in his voice. If I closed my eyes, I could almost picture the little upturn of his lips, the gleam in his eyes. 

I cleared my throat, preparing myself for the embarrassment that was sure to come. “Bunny. You do this thing with your nose, when you think; you scrunch it up, like a little rabbit. I thought it was very fitting,” I explained, toying with my bottom lip to suppress my nerves.

He let out a breathy laugh, which I counted as an accomplishment in my book, and I could hear him shuffling around again. “Puppy and Bunny. We’re the couple to be, huh?” 

I tried not to let his words get to me, I really did. Logically, I knew that he meant ‘couple’ to mean that we were two people, not that we were dating. Most likely, he thought that I was as emotionally disconnected from our situation as he was, which was a normal assumption to make. But I couldn’t stop the way my breath caught in my throat.

Rather than say something stupid and embarrassing, like always, I decided to just change the subject. It was selfish, I thought, to be focused on something so silly as the connotation of one word when Spencer was upset. 

“Have you ever seen Time of the Wolf directed by Michael Haneke? I know some French, but not nearly enough to have gotten through the movie without subtitles. He’s a very talented director.” 

Truthfully, a small part of me wanted to see if Spencer knew French. We’d had short conversations in Russian, because he was trying to improve, but I wanted to hear his French accent desperately. The movie was a good excuse to bring up my other agenda. 

“Haneke did the film adaptation of Kafka’s novel ‘The Castle’. It was surprisingly well received for a film adaptation, probably because of how closely it stuck to the novel. Kafka wrote the screenplay himself, partially, I believe.”

I knew that Spencer was passionate about pretty much everything, considering how much he knew, but it was still nice to talk about something we both enjoyed. Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t keep up with him, like I wasn’t enough to keep him interested. If I wasn’t, he did a good job at pretending otherwise. 

“Do you wanna be the first to hear my extremely thoughtful and provocative essay on Funny Games? It’s super intelligent, I swear. Wait, no, thought-provoking, not provocative.” 

Much to my pleasure, I stayed on the phone with Spencer until I dozed off to sleep. As I was drifting, I couldn’t help but wonder if my presence comforted him as much as his did to me. Sleep came easier, my dreams were nicer. I felt safe knowing he was there, even if not physically.

When I woke up, the call was still connected and I could hear Spencer’s light snores from his end. It was a nice way to start my morning, all things considered. 

The naive part of me allowed myself to relish in the idea of a future where I often woke up to the sound of Spencer’s breathing to comfort me. 

I ended the call, and got started on my workload with a clear head and a light heart. It was amazing what a good night’s rest could do. And I owed it to Spencer, I suppose. 

The next few days went by with not much fanfare; I spent the day doing schoolwork and the evening waiting for Spencer to call, falling asleep to his ramblings each night. I was being spoiled, growing accustomed to his voice being the last thing I heard before drifting off.

Nicole, my roommate, could sense a change in me. She cornered me in the kitchen, accusing me of keeping secrets from her because “no one is supposed to be that happy at 7:00 A.M.”. I had only laughed, grabbing my coffee and ducking under her arm. 

For what it was worth, I didn’t realize anything was different until she pointed it out. I guess it was easier to be a morning person when I wasn’t having nightmares. It was certainly easier making it through the day knowing I had something to look forward to. 

Then, one seemingly inconsequential Tuesday afternoon, a series of knocks interrupted my nth time trying to finish an essay for my Abnormal Psychology class. I was very grateful for the intrusion, albeit confused about who the stranger might be. 

When I checked the peephole, I was pleasantly surprised to see Spencer’s warm brown eyes staring back at me. He hadn’t said anything about coming back the night before, or texted me that morning, so I had no idea he was even back in the state.

“Spencer! You’re back!” I exclaimed happily, wrapping my arms around his waist tightly without any hesitation. He had been in Oregon for almost three weeks, and with how much we had been talking during that time, I missed him more than ever.

He chuckled, returning my hug and resting his chin atop my head for a moment. When we broke apart, I invited him inside, completely abandoning my essay.

We went to my bedroom like it was first nature, him abandoning his messenger bag by my dresser. As he took his sneakers off, I smiled to myself at his mismatched socks, one with green and blue stripes and one with blue anchors on it.

I situated myself atop the covers on my bed, gesturing for him to sit beside me. He did so without much complaints, laying down before pulling me into his chest and holding onto me like he was afraid I would run away.

“Hey there, I missed you too. You didn’t tell me you were coming back today,” I spoke, half muffled by the fabric of his cardigan, so I lifted my head to stare at him through my eyelashes.

Spencer wasn’t looking at me. He was staring straight up at the ceiling, a blank expression on his face. I could tell he wasn’t really in the room with me, but inside his own head.

“This case was bad.” His voice was faint, cracking at the end, and I felt my heart drop at how defeated he sounded. Someone as beautiful as him didn’t deserve to be tainted by such awful things as often as he was.

I nodded understandingly, though we both knew I would never really understand, and rested my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. In my best attempts to soothe him, I traced random shapes on his arm, tangling my legs with his.

I didn’t really know what he would need, what kind of thing would help with the pain he had to deal with, but I could bet that he didn’t want to relive it. So I wasn’t going to ask him to talk about it, not unless he indicated that he wanted to.

We sat like that for a while, enjoying each other’s company in a comfortable silence. He played with my hair, I listened for any changes in his heartbeat, we held each other close. 

Finally, he spoke again. “I, um, I got you a gift from Oregon,” he stuttered out, his hand in my hair ceasing its movements. I could feel his heartbeat speed up the tiniest bit. 

I sat up, drumming on his stomach lightly with a grin on my face. “Can I see it?” 

He nodded, leaving the bed to grab his bag and returning a second later with a small smile on his face. From his bag, he retrieved a DVD case that looked well-loved. 

“It’s the 1972 Russian film Solaris directed by Andrei Tarkovsky,” he explained, watching me run my fingers over the case. “I thought we could watch it together.” 

Spencer had been recommending me different forms of Russian media since he found out I could understand the language. From professional publications to love poems, he brought up something new whenever he got the opportunity. 

We had discovered our shared love of foreign films and he had been even more excited to introduce me to all of his favorite Russian movies. And I certainly wasn’t going to complain; I loved hearing him talk when he was passionate. I could hear him talk for days. 

During his time away, he had compiled a list of movies for us to watch together when we had the chance. Solaris wasn’t on that list, but I suppose that was part of the surprise. 

“I’d love to. Do you want to…stay, uh, stay tonight? If you can, I mean. I know you’re busy,” I trailed off, looking anywhere but his eyes and wringing my hands. 

He put his hand on my knee, rubbing his thumb across it gently. When I looked up at him, he had a warm expression on his face. 

“Yeah, my go-bag is still in the car. I can wear clothes from there to work,” he replied, smiling down at me so brightly his eyes turned into little crescents. 

We spent the day in my bed watching movies, my head resting comfortably on his chest. The whole time, there was hardly a moment we weren’t touching one another. 

When nighttime came, he read me ‘The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe’ from memory until I dozed off in his arms. Of course, he was gone by the time I woke up, not that I expected anything differently. 

But when I saw the little post-it note on his pillow, saying _I’ll see you after work, pup_ , I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. It was nice to feel wanted without thinking about the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this! Things are looking sweet for the two. No smut this time but I’ve already started the next chapter and it’s long and dirty. Please please leave feedback, it’s what keeps me working!!


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